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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131452">Water Cools Not</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes'>Dialects_and_Costumes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Because Brienne deserves it), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Apparently Jaime and Brienne getting it on thanks to restaurants is becoming my thing, Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rolled-Up Sleeves, Table Sex, Table Sex Tuesday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:53:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, Lannister. I’m not easy to figure out.”<br/>Jaime’s eyes are sharp, and she gets caught in his piercing gaze. “No,” he murmurs, and Brienne is certain she sees his eyes rake over every inch of her body. “No, you really aren’t, are you?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Water Cools Not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've now written two smut fics and found both titles in Shakespeare's sonnets, so I'm calling it. This is now my thing, and all future smutty oneshots will follow suit.</p><p>Title taken from Sonnet 154: "The little Love-god lying once asleep"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This,” Brienne punctuates her words by throwing her cleaning rag into a bucket, “is all your fault.”</p><p>Jaime runs a hand through his hair, his <em>stupid</em> tousled hair, grinning back at Brienne. He’s been the bartender at the Fishing Smack, a ragged little seafood restaurant squished into the line of tourist trap shops on the wharf of Blackwater Bay, for a month as of today, and Brienne hasn’t gone a day without wishing she could push him off the pier into the murky brackish water.</p><p>Today is certainly no exception. Their boss Euron Greyjoy, <em>vindictive little prick, </em>Brienne stews as she sprays down another table with cleaning solution, had approached her before the day began to inform her she was being paired with Jaime to show him how he liked the front-of-house to look during a deep clean, “since you’re up to brush with all the standards.” She had sent him an email the night before with a list of concerns from the entire wait staff regarding the cleanliness standards he was setting, and apparently Euron thought she would refuse the extra three hours pay if she knew she’d be spending it along with Jaime <em>fucking </em>Lannister.</p><p>“My fault, is it? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who decided to send off an email to our boss basically calling him a slob who shouldn’t run a hot dog cart, let alone a restaurant, Gouda.” Jaime’s face seems to reject looking tired even after pulling a double behind the bar, and his green eyes glint playfully at Brienne. He’s been growing out a beard since starting, and it’s another irritating aspect of this man because <em>of course</em> it’s highlighting the handsome angles of his cheekbones rather than hiding them.</p><p>“My <em>name</em> is Brienne, and I didn’t say any of that, <em>you</em> did. I sent a perfectly professional email; <em>you </em>told him he was a slob.” She glares at him, furiously scrubbing at an invisible spot on the table currently groaning under her wrathful cleaning, irritated at how his nickname for her has refused to disappear after their first night working together.</p><p> Jaime’s first night had ended without much of an incident, and they hadn’t spoken beyond a moment where she snapped at him for adding a garnish to her tray of drinks after she had it balanced, and he had bitten back with a sharp retort to stop complaining and deliver the damn drinks. The other servers and Brienne walked out around the same time Jaime and his bar support staff did, and everyone kept a pleasant conversation going as they headed out into the evening air.</p><p>The nearest garage for employees to park at had been right next to Brienne’s bus stop, and everyone bid one another goodbye as they piled into their vehicles. She waved to the various calls of “Bye, Brie!” and “See you tomorrow, Brie, thanks for your help tonight!”, until it was just her standing at the stop, and Jaime leaning up against the hood of his car.</p><p>“Why does everyone call you Brie?” He had asked, and Brienne shrugged.</p><p>“I guess it makes sense with my name. Brie works as a short form of Brienne.”</p><p>“So like the cheese?" He had frowned at that, and Brienne shrugged again.</p><p>"I suppose…"</p><p>"If you were any type of cheese, you wouldn't be brie… you'd be Gouda." He had declared, nodding to himself.</p><p>"What the- <em>what</em>?"</p><p>"Yeah, I like it. Let me give you a ride home, Gouda!"</p><p>"<em>Don't call me that!</em>"</p><p>“It’s no different than me calling you Brie, so I’m sticking with it. Can I give you a ride, Gouda?” He had been ridiculously charming, the wind tugging his hair into some magical ruffled dreamboat status, and Brienne had blushed but hotly refused the ride.</p><p>“Lannister, I've paid for the bus pass, I'm not about to waste my money <em>not</em> taking the bus.” He had shrugged at that, told her to suit herself, but every night he had ensured she was safely boarded before climbing into his own car. The nickname had stuck, and so had his charming and irritable need to wheedle her. She does her best to avoid him, praying to the Seven her coworkers don’t pick up the nickname, and he keeps his conversation from the hood of his car to pop culture and customer anecdotes, which would be fine if it weren't for the 'Gouda' nonsense.</p><p>There’s no changing the fact that tonight, however, Brienne is burning the midnight oil alone with her chiseled and <em>annoying</em> coworker. Brienne purses her lips, grumbling to herself that at the very least, he <em>is</em> trying to make sure they aren’t here until sun-up. He’s got his bar fridges empty, and she can see him crouching down to wipe them out with a sanitized rag of his own.</p><p>Maybe it’s the late night, or maybe it’s the lasting effects of the espresso stout Jaime had pulled for both of them as Brienne had locked up, but she takes a moment to not be irritated at the man, and just admires him. He’s got his back to her, but she can see every line of muscle in his back through his crisp white button-up. She bites her lip, half exasperated and half impressed that it’s managed to get through seven hours of slinging back beers and mai-tais without a single stain other than a slight translucence where Jaime’s sweat has seeped through. <em>Asshole. Even his </em>sweat<em> looks good on him.</em> She can see his shoulders flexing as he reaches the back corner, and she hides a grin when he lets out a yell, “Oh, <em>gross!</em>”</p><p>Brienne is almost done scraping gum off the bottom of the bar when she hears a clunk above her head.</p><p>“Break time, Gouda!” Brienne narrowly avoids hitting her head on the bar-top as she jerks up, startled. Jaime is leaning over, elbows resting on the bar as he pushes a glass towards her. He’s rolled up his sleeves, and Brienne swallows to try and mask her dry throat at the definition in his forearms. It’s really no surprise to her how harsh her voice is when she chastises him, resolutely ignoring how the taut the fabric now is on his upper arms, tightened by the roll in the sleeves.</p><p> “Lannister, you’re supposed to be cleaning the ice bins, not refilling them!”</p><p>“Always so responsible,” Jaime’s devil-may-care smirk is focused on Brienne and she swallows again. “I grabbed the ice from the back. That stout was the first time you haven't argued with me after I made a drink for you, I'm pushing my luck on this until I've got your drink figured out, Gouda."</p><p>"<em>Stop</em> calling me that."</p><p>"Not a chance, <em>Gouda</em>.” Jaime stretches out his wretched nickname for her, a grin warming his eyes, and Brienne considers flicking one of the pieces of chewed gum at his awful, handsome face, just to stop him from looking at her like <em>that</em>. “Now drink up.”</p><p>Desperate for something to swallow, and stubbornly ignoring the little voice in the back of her head wanting her to try swallowing something <em>other</em> than a cocktail, she reaches for the glass and takes a swig from it. She nearly sputters it all over Jaime’s face, cringing as she shakes her head in protest at the sickly sweet taste of cola and sunscreen now coating her tongue, doing her best not to gag. “What the <em>fuck</em>, Lannister? Oh, gods… that tastes like punishment disguised as fake coconut.”</p><p>Jaime glowers at her, and it’s the first time Brienne has ever seen him irritated at <em>her, </em>at least ever since the first night when they snapped at each other. The way his jaw tightens and shows off just how sleek and angular it is almost distracts her from the nasty aftertaste burning on her tongue and down her throat.  “I used coconut rum. I wanted to see if you liked sweet.”</p><p>Brienne has swallowed enough of the alcohol to ignore her usual filter, and she thinks there’s a chance the grin she shoots towards Jaime might be considered coy as she teases him, “You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, Lannister. I’m not easy to figure out.”</p><p>Jaime’s eyes are sharp, and she gets caught in his piercing gaze. “No,” he murmurs, and Brienne is certain she sees his eyes rake over every inch of her body. “No, you really aren’t, are you?” Before Brienne's brain has a chance to fully process what just happened, Jaime has taken the glass back and has turned away to dust the top shelf liquors.</p><p>For the next few hours, Jaime is surprisingly quiet as they both scrub, bleach, and wipe away every possible trace of bacteria in the restaurant. Finally, Brienne is able to triumphantly draw a line through the last task on their list, and she heads to the back-of-house to gather her things and to place the list on Euron’s desk.</p><p>She catches Jaime peering out of the corner of his eye at her, but other than the blush that warms her skin all the way down to her shoulders, she tries her best to ignore him as she stuffs her apron in her backpack. Jaime is still puttering around his favorite corner of the bar, and she’s too worn out to snipe at him, so she tosses her backpack down and sinks into one of the booths towards the back exit. She stretches her arms out, sliding down to rest on the table, luxuriating in the cool feel of the wood on her bare arms.</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Brienne is fully draped over the table as she looks up at Jaime, and she groans at the glass in his outstretched hand, slowly pushing herself up to rest her head on her hand.</p><p>“Lannister, I’m going to have to <em>clean</em> that glass now.” Jaime arches a brow at her and swirls the drink in front of her with a grin, his fingers deceptively lazy on the rim of the glass.</p><p>“We’ll leave it for that prick of a boss of ours to take care of. I’m not having you judge my rather impressive skills on… what did you call it? ‘Punishment disguised as fake coconut?’ Take the damn glass, Brienne.”</p><p>She blinks, sitting up suddenly at the use of her name. It rolls off his tongue like velvet, and she needs a drink again to cool the sudden parch of her throat.<em> Damn the man.</em> She reaches out and takes the glass, glancing up at Jaime. <em>Fuck</em>, he looks good. He’s got his jacket slung over a shoulder, but his white shirt is still on full display. The top buttons are tugging hard to stay put over his chest, and Brienne’s face is burning when she looks up and meets Jaime’s eyes. She averts her own gaze back down to the glass, and brings it to her lips.</p><p>Jaime’s given the glass a sugar rim, but everything else about the berry-colored liquid is an explosion of different flavors to contrast with the sweetness of the sugar. It’s tart and herbal and fruity, and she sighs as it cools her throat. Jaime makes a strangled noise, and Brienne’s eyes slowly blink open again. She doesn’t even remember closing them in the first place.</p><p>There’s a flush of Jaime’s own coloring the skin above his stubble, and he reaches out a hand towards her. “Bit of sugar,” he murmurs, his voice rough, as he drags his thumb across Brienne’s lip. It’s surprisingly tender, considering the heat in his eyes.</p><p>Brienne’s tongue slides out to catch the traces of sugar as Jaime draws his hand away. “This is amazing.” Her words are unsure, and she’s only slightly aware they’re on the edge of something. He used her <em>name</em> for Seven’s sake.</p><p>He smiles, only a hint of danger dancing in the corner of his mouth, and leans down slightly. “I wanted to make something that tasted as good as I think you do.”</p><p>Brienne’s eyes widen. “What?” She squeaks, her whole body buzzing with a need for him to say it again, to confirm that this aggravating and astonishing man in front of her really said he wanted to taste <em>her.</em></p><p>“I’ve been aching to taste you, Brienne… will you let me?” Jaime breathes into her ear,<em> Sweet merciful gods… maybe it’s a good thing he’s never used my name before,</em> she thinks faintly. Jaime is still braced on the table and the back of the booth, peering down at her, his normally bright eyes dark with want. Brienne looks up at him, shoving her raging hormones to one side, considering him frankly. There’s a nasty voice in her head, one that’s been there since she dumped Hyle, muttering about how he’s been plying her with alcohol just to embarrass her, that there’s no way a man that looks as delectable as Jaime would ever say that to her if they thought she was sober, but she dismisses the nasty little monster of self-doubt, because if there were ever a man designed to be more unlike Hyle, it’s Jaime. It wasn't even that he was trying to get her drunk, he wanted to find <em>her</em> drink, and realizing that level of attention deepens the flush on her cheeks.</p><p><em>Oh, fuck it.</em> She reaches up and drags him down by the open collar of his shirt to answer with a kiss. Jaime grunts in surprise at her sudden assertiveness, but it transforms into one of his laughs against her mouth as they find the rhythm of this first kiss. Brienne sighs as Jaime lets go of the booth to run a hand up her neck to grasp her head, tilting it up to give him better access to her. She complies eagerly, her lips parting as she lets out a tiny moan of approval.</p><p>Jaime doesn’t play fair when he hears her moan, and he smothers it with his tongue, making her gasp as it slides against hers. His tongue pushes and swirls around hers, teasing her with its movements. It’s as if he’s saying to her, <em>look at what we can do, don’t you like what my tongue is doing to you, Brienne?</em> She does, oh Seven bless her, and she likes what his tongue is doing to her so much she’d think she was dreaming. Thank the gods, Brienne knows she’s not dreaming because she has both her hands tightly fisted in his shirt, and she can feel the textured fabric, she can sense the heat from his skin under it, and she can feel her growing frustration with the way her body is unable to press against every plane of his.</p><p>Jaime pulls away, slowly, his tongue darting out to take one last taste of her bottom lip, and she shudders as she takes a deep breath. Jaime runs his hands down her sides, ghosting along her ribs, and settles them firmly on her hips before yanking them towards the edge of the booth. Brienne yelps in surprise, but before she can begin to process how his arms flexed in his <em>stupid</em> shirt, he’s flexing more than just his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist so he can pick her up, his fingers digging into her ass, and settle her on the table.</p><p>“You’ve been on your feet all day, and I don’t want you getting tired on me,” Jaime’s smirk is still aggravating enough to tempt her to shove him off the pier, but Brienne decides to ignore it for a much more enjoyable temptation. He leans in again, and this time, Brienne presses every inch of herself against him as they kiss. Her legs are long enough that she could touch the floor if she really wanted to, but she much prefers the feeling of Jaime cradled in them, pressing his body just as eagerly against her. This time, their kiss doesn’t need any warm-up. You can’t work in a restaurant without a knack for memory, and their mouths remember just exactly how good the other person feels.</p><p>Jaime slides his hands from her ass to under her shirt, dancing his fingers up her stomach, and Brienne has to break away from their kiss because it <em>tickles</em>, and she shivers with a laugh. Jaime grins at her, leaning in to kiss her neck, right below her ear, his hands continuing to slide up her stomach, lifting her shirt. Brienne tenses slightly, and Jaime pulls back.</p><p>“You okay?” His voice is gravelly and low, and the earlier tenderness is still warming his dark eyes. Brienne bites her lip.</p><p>“I’m… yeah, I’m <em>more </em>than okay…” Brienne is panting, and she runs her hands down Jaime’s chest, pausing at the top button. She huffs a laugh, looking up at him from her perch on the table. “I never thought I’d be getting ravished on a table in the Fishing Smack.” She’s able to be teasing about it because it is really rather ridiculous, and Jaime chuckles, leaning in to kiss her neck again.</p><p>“I bet I can make you forget where we are, Brienne,” he croons into her ear, his hands sneaking up again, and Brienne shudders with the promise in his voice.</p><p>“You’re on.”</p><p>Jaime takes the challenge seriously, and Brienne is more than happy to let him lose himself in finding the spot on her neck that makes her see stars. She’s really got no skin in the game, she <em>wants</em> Jaime to make her forget they’re in this dark corner of the restaurant, she wants him to make her forget her name, she wants to forget anything but the feel of his skin against hers. She starts to tug at the buttons on his shirt as his hands stroke the subtle curve of her breasts, needy for the feel of him against her. He lets out a moan when he discovers Brienne doesn’t bother with a bra, and she shivers at the sound.</p><p>Brienne manages to get the buttons undone, and Jaime pulls away to tug the shirt off, but Brienne stops him. “No. I… you look good like this,” she manages to say, her skin blotchy with the blush spreading over it. The shirt is <em>everything</em> as it continues to flutter against his body, exposing his tan skin and athletic physique. Brienne knows her eyes are as dark as his when she glances down at his arms, still wrapped deliciously in his rolled up sleeves. He grins at her, and reaches for her tank top instead.</p><p>“I bet you’ll look good with this off,” He responds, his grin widening when she lifts her arms, permitting him to strip the shirt from her flushed skin. His grin falters, but Brienne wills herself to look deep into his eyes, finding it’s desire there instead of disappointment.</p><p>He leans in, placing his palms on the table, looking up at Brienne for a moment before placing his lips on her skin again. He caresses her neck, tongue tracing down to her collarbone, pulling a moan from Brienne’s lips as he scrapes his teeth along the edge of it. His tongue is teasing, almost gentle, but the force of it running down to her exposed nipple makes Brienne fall back onto her elbows. Jaime follows her eagerly, their bodies pressing hard against one another as he refuses to relinquish the taste of her skin for a moment.</p><p>She moans, her head falling back when Jaime’s mouth finds her nipple, and she can hear more than see his whole body shift to devoting attention to it. She hears his shirt rustling, and she whines when his mouth makes lewd, hungry noises as he teases and lavishes her breast with attention. It’s like she can feel every ounce of her blood zinging through her body, she can sense the veins delivering blood to her flushed cheeks, to the swelling tightness of her nipple, all the way down to her cunt, tingling with a rush of wetness. She pushes her hips against Jaime’s and they both groan when Brienne discovers just how much he wants her too. Jaime pulls away from one nipple and she looks down at him in a dazed wonder, sure of this moment, but unsure of where he plans to torment her next.</p><p>There’s no hint of his teasing smile anymore, he’s a man driven by desire, hers and his, and he wastes no time bending his head down to devote himself to her other nipple, his lips firmer and hungrier as he continues to loom over her. Brienne has lost all sense of decorum, and she’s rubbing her hips back and forth against Jaime’s. Her long legs are tight around his waist, wanting him closer to that spot that aches for more than just the hint of his hard cock pressing against it through both of their jeans.</p><p>Jaime groans, the sound vibrating against her skin, and he abandons her nipples, pushing himself up from the table, skimming his hands down her stomach to the buttons on her jeans. He looks up at her, and Brienne is touched by his continued insistence on her consent. She nods, pushing herself up on her elbows to lift her ass from the table. Jaime moans, looking down at her flexed core and arms, and makes quick work of her jeans and underwear, huffing a laugh as she kicks off her practical work clogs. Brienne is only a little reluctant to disentangle her legs from his waist, but it’s worth it when he runs his hands down the length of her thighs, tugging the rest of her clothes all the way down to the floor. It’s practically obscene how good he looks right now, his jeans tight around his hard cock, his shirt pushed open to reveal the tanned skin underneath. His grin is back, but it’s more dangerous and more exciting than the one he gives her when she threatens to hook up a keg filled with chowder to his tap.</p><p>Jaime kneels in front of her on the table, dragging her hips to the edge. It’s almost as if he’s preparing to worship at an altar in a sept. “Thanks for getting the floor so spotless,” he quips, and Brienne feels like she just might pass out before he even touches her with his breathy irreverence. She takes a stuttered breath, looking down at him in anticipation. He lifts both of her legs up, running his hands down them as he guides them to rest on his shoulders. She can feel the fabric of his shirt against her calves, against her thighs, and then it’s his <em>mouth</em> on her inner thigh, his beard an unfamiliar texture making her gasp as it scrapes closer… and closer… and then she can’t think about anything because Jaime’s mouth is in between her legs, and he’s licking her folds with that same sharp tongue she’s battled with for the past few weeks. Oh, she should have known someone so ready to tease her about her practical shoes would have an irrational talent for exploring every curve and crease of her cunt. He’s moaning as he tastes her, not yet searching for the spot that will make her moan, not yet.</p><p>Brienne pushes herself up, bracing herself on the table with one hand, gripping his hair with the other, begging him to find the spot that’s been aching to feel this since she took that first sip of <em>her</em> drink. Jaime groans, and it sends a shiver of need up her spine because he follows her guiding hand willingly, eagerly, and rubs his entire jaw against her clit. It’s swollen and sensitive with her need, and the rough scratch of his beard mixed with the smooth bluntness of his tongue is almost too much to tolerate. The muscles in her legs are tense with wanting, and she cries out as she pushes his head firmly between her legs.  Jaime’s got one hand braced against her hips, and the other one is hidden from Brienne’s view, but suddenly she knows exactly where it is, because there’s one… oh <em>gods</em>, two fingers sliding into her, and she rolls her hips in time with his fingers, whining for <em>more, more, please Jaime… please please please</em>, and he curls a third finger inside her, making her shriek.</p><p>Brienne is floating, there’s nothing around her but a blinding white light of pleasure, and it’s a beat or two of her trembling before she can even remember where she is. When she does, she blushes, looking down at Jaime still content between her legs. His fingers slide out of her, and he makes sure she’s watching him as he licks them clean. That does nothing for the glisten she sees trapped in the hairs of his stubble, and something about that makes her feel flooded with want all over again.</p><p>Jaime crawls back up to his feet, and Brienne tugs him close for a kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist once more. He leans in, running a hand down her side, trying to find the ticklish spot from earlier that made her twitch. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes flicking to meet hers as their lips part. “How’d I do?” he teases, and Brienne laughs a little helplessly. She really is down for the count when it comes to him like this, just as enticing at her cocktail was, a mix of arrogant and attentive. She looks away from his gleaming eyes and spots the glass almost completely forgotten on the edge of the table. She picks it up, and slowly drains it, relishing the taste as it dances on her palate, before pulling Jaime in for a deep kiss. She can taste herself on his lips and his tongue, and she thinks how wasted he is on this little hole-in-the-wall tourist trap because somehow he’s managed to find the perfect drink to complement the taste of <em>her.</em></p><p>“Not bad, Lannister… but I bet we can both do better.” She teases him right back, setting the glass back down, and running her hands down his chest. She drags her thumbs across his dark nipples, grinning with delight at his responding groan. Jaime curls his body into hers, resting his head in the crook of her neck, biting it and soothing the bite with soft kisses. Brienne’s hands slide down to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper with only slightly fumbling fingers. She slides her hands down, finding the curve where his lower back meets his ass, hooking her fingers around both jeans and boxers to pull them down as far as she can. Jaime groans as his hard cock is finally free, and Brienne lets out a small gasp at his length, how hard he is, and how much she wants him sliding every inch inside of her. Jaime pulls himself away from the cradle of her legs to tug his pants down the rest of the way, kicking them to the side with their shoes, and the rest of Brienne’s clothes.</p><p>He’s still got the shirt on, and Brienne is able to faintly come to the conclusion it’s quite possibly the hottest a man has ever looked. He stands in front of her, and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly as he looks at her as if <em>she’s</em> the gorgeous one in this equation.</p><p>“Fuck,” she whimpers, and she throws herself down on the table, stretching her arm out to grab her backpack. Jaime moans at the picture she creates, her back arching as she twists to get access to the front pocket, and his moan only bites off as he stares at the condom she pulls out to hand to him.</p><p>“You’re sure?” His voice is rough, barely audible, and Brienne feels warm all over that this gorgeous man keeps ensuring her consent is present.</p><p>“I’m sure.” Brienne bites her lip, propping herself back up on her elbows. “I want you to fuck me, Jaime.” She’s proud there’s no quiver in her voice because there’s a small corner of her mind where she’s terrified this acerbic, smart, handsome man will leave her wanting more and more, but she also knows that’s only the trauma of other men in her mind. Jaime isn’t like those men, even when he’s 'Lannister', he’s more than they could have ever hoped to be. The air is quiet as Jaime rips open the packet, and she can hear the sliding of the synthetic barrier over his cock, she can hear the harsh breathing coming from him; she’s certain his breaths are in perfect rhythm with her fluttering heartbeats.</p><p>She pushes herself all the way up to sitting as Jaime steps back into her, winding her long arms around his neck, pulling him down for another heated kiss. Jaime leads his cock into her at the same moment his tongue slides back into her mouth, and she whines with how, even with the condom between them, she can feel every inch of him. He’s slow at first, ensuring she’s comfortable, letting his tongue do the thrusting while she tightens her legs around his waist. She pulls them tight, a silent cue for him to <em>move</em>, dammit, and Jaime laughs before obeying her unspoken command.</p><p>“Fuck… oh <em>fuck, </em>Jaime!” Brienne is wrapped around him, fingers digging into his shoulders, legs crossed over his ass, and his laugh dissolves into moans as he thrusts toward her. Brienne is hazily grateful the table is bolted to the wall, because with the way they’re moving together, there’s no way it wouldn’t be banging against it if it weren’t.</p><p>Jaime cradles her neck in one hand, and slides his other one down between them to flick her clit in time with their thrusts. Brienne swears loudly, her limbs shaking, begging Jaime for more. He growls in her ear, his hips snapping back and forth as hers roll and oh, gods they feel so good together, he feels so good inside her.</p><p>He’s moaning as he buries his head in the crook of her neck, biting it as she tightens around him, the words she can make out matching hers with their dirty want, <em>feels so good, fuck Brienne you’re so wet and tight for me, could fuck you until I die, fuck, fuck, fuck!</em></p><p>Brienne is gasping, keening as his fingers and his cock become rough with his own need for release, and she falls back onto the hard surface of the table, completely surrendering herself to the man fucking her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.</p><p>Her back arches off the table, she's hissing at the sting from where her sweat made her skin stick to the table, and she feels so close to peaking again; Jaime is half hunched over her, his eyes wild, and when their eyes meet, that’s it for Brienne. She cries out again, her hips bucking against Jaime’s, her legs and her cunt clenching around him.</p><p>He gasps, falling against her as his hips snap into hers, rhythm sacrificed for the pressure of his need, and he groans in her ear as he finds his own release. She’s trembling, the hardwood is unpleasant against her shoulder blades, but Brienne is certain there’s no place she would rather be right now. Even if it’s a table in the fucking Fishing Smack.</p><p>Jaime pushes up with a groan, and reluctantly withdraws from her, carefully removing the condom. Brienne sits up slowly, looking him in wonder.</p><p>“What the fuck did we just do?” She says with a laugh. Jaime chuckles as he sorts through the pile of clothes strewn across the restaurant floor, handing back her tank top and underwear.</p><p>“I believe I just made you forget I was fucking you on a table in the Fishing Smack,” Jaime responds as he tugs his jeans back on.</p><p>“If Euron ever finds out, I’m throwing you into the Bay.” Jaime’s eyes glint, and Brienne looks down at her shirt to avoid the heat and humor swirling in his eyes.</p><p>“He’s less likely to find out if we do this again off-site.” Brienne has her shirt pulled over her head, and she can hear the edge of sincerity in Jaime’s voice. It’s garnished with a hint of vulnerability, as if he thinks she might actually say no. He hasn’t bothered to button his shirt back up, and he pins her back to the table, determined for her to not mistake his meaning. “Come home with me, Brienne.” It’s a heady blend of pleading and demanding, and Brienne takes a deep breath as she studies him.</p><p>She’s almost surprised how much she wants to go home with the man trapping her with his arms on the table. This man who has teased her for her practical non-slip clogs up until the day he came whirling around the corner from the kitchen only to slip and fall from an unlucky spilled chowder bowl. This man who has kicked out well-paying customers who insulted her in his vicinity. This man who calls her Gouda except for when he had breathed 'Brienne' into her skin just now. Yes, Brienne wants desperately to go home with Jaime Lannister.</p><p> </p><p>So she does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Fishing Smack is the name of an actual pub from England in the 1890s and the name makes me lose my mind because someone actually NAMED A PUB AFTER SMACKING SOMEONE WITH A FISH. EDIT: Apparently, A fishing smack was probably a type of boat which makes a lot more sense. Still I imagine Euron not knowing anything about that, and the logo is of a person in fisherman gear thwacking someone with a salmon.</p><p>Jaime thinks Brienne would be gouda because it's 1. his favorite cheese and 2. he likes that Brienne is a good person, and it was an easy leap to making a joke about cheesy nicknames. (Eeeeeeyyyyy, see what I did there?)</p><p>The drinks Jaime supplies Brienne with are based on real drinks. The Espresso stout is based on one I had at Elliott Bay Brewery; it was pulled from a nitro tap and was honestly so good I'm still mad it's off the menu and it's been 4 years.<br/>The first cocktail is a rum and coke, but Jaime uses coconut rum. I despise all things coconut, especially FAKE coconut like it literally tastes exactly like sunscreen, and decided to imbue Brienne with that same distaste.<br/>The second is a blackberry bramble. It's made with gin, muddled blackberries, lemon juice, simple syrup and creme de mure (creme de cassis can be used in a pinch) It's herbal and fruity and delicious and a little bit extra.<br/>As always, when it comes to critique on my smut... just remember my safeword is pineapple! 😉</p></blockquote></div></div>
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